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…Robin laid an egg?

Well you guys are just the greatest support network a gal like me could ask for. I’m recovering quite well from the giant holes in my face, and now I just seem to be suffering from severe lethargy. The thought of getting up in 6 hours for work is enough to make me want to tear out my stitches. I just want sleep.

I attempted Christmas shopping yesterday. I tend to do these things alone, because I’m bit of a gloomy shopper. As soon as I step foot in a mall I feel depressed, utterly dejected, and damned near impoverished. If it’s not on sale, I can’t buy it (although I’ll never understand the reasoning behind buying a plain t-shirt for fucking $50 just because it’s a label brand). With the CRAZED INSANITY PSYCHOTICNESS of Christmas shopping upon us, this awful mood just intensifies x100.

I grumble, and groan, and break out in nervous sweats. I have to sweep the ENTIRE MALL first, comparing deals and pricetags and merch, before I can even CONSIDER buying anything. I wanted to buy the Planet Earth series for my father yesterday, but it was $99. I discovered it later on Amazon for $36. See what I mean?

Anyway, I picked up a few small things. Nothing for mom or dad. No wrapping paper. No Christmas cards. I have to go back there, to that miserable hole. To that soul-eating sonofabitch building. Dammit.

I had an extremely quiet weekend. Girls night at JagerBomb where I looked on sadly as everyone devoured nachos and it was forbidden to me (need I describe my agony?). Everyone drank casually and I drank water. Lil Sis stayed over and we cuddled and caught up on things. She’s going to Thailand for a freaking month to visit her brother, and I am eaten up with jealousy.

Last night, some lady friends came over and we attempted watching a movie but mostly just sat around chatting. Hevs made me some wicked-awesome chicken soup. Damn I’ve been so cranky lately with all these swirly life hormones but I have amazing friends, they take such great care of me.

Then my roomies and some of their friends were getting ready to check-out the skeet pub known as Peter Easton. As they were leaving, I was upstairs in my room but I could hear them talking. Someone asked why I was staying at home.
“She just had her wisdom teeth out,” Chef said. I swear I could hear the pride in his voice. “Otherwise she’d be out, she’s a bigger alcoholic than the both of us put together.”

Damn, such a reputation to live up to.

Also did the whole Christmas parade thing today, complete with banana-hot-chocolate and Hevs. It was pretty sweet, but I wish companies would stop slapping signs onto a moving vehicle and calling it a “parade float”, and perhaps the dancers should crack a smile. It scares me how bitter I am.

So here’s a pretty perfect example of a skeet. His name is Donnie Dunphy, and chances are you won’t find him all that funny because there’s so many Newfoundland references, but you’ll get the imagery/speech. This is what I refer to as a “Newfie” accent, except mine generally isn’t all that bad unless you toss me in with a bunch of people from da bay. But that’s a different story.

Also, a delivery guy came to the house tonight with a big stack of pizzas for “Walsh.” ?! Who the HELL ordered pizza for me?

1. Today I wore my shirt backwards. ALL DAY.

2. Two nights ago I walked out of my room to replace my towel in the bathroom, completely naked. Just strolled right out there in the hallway, naked as a j-bird. The roommates were downstairs, fortunately.

 

I’m too tired for the blogging world today. I just wasted four hours wandering aimlessly around the mall, trying to find rubber boots and a flashlight for camping. I decided to borrow rubber boots from Ani but I still have no flashlight. There were sales everywhere and I searched for a nice, pleated skirt, but to no avail. I’m in the middle of the Shopaholic series, and while reading the book today, warning bells started going off in my head. ALERT ALERT THIS CRAZY BITCH IS JUST LIKE YOU.

 

I ended up feeling too guilty to buy anything new, even though there’s a bajillion things I need. “Need.” Like a raincoat, some dressy sandals, matching jewellery for my Johnny Ruth dress. And I have yet to make a payment on my bed. My lovely amazing bed. Oh, then there’s the curtains for my bedroom, the wall tattoo for my headboard, and the candelabra for my fireplace…

 

And the puppy.

 

What I’m really trying to say is that my bills are creeping up on me and I expect them to soon kick me in the box. I’m in the middle of trying to write a decent article to be published or something, but there’s just no time. Never mind the fact I jumped on the wrong fucking bus tonight, and somehow turned a 15 minute ride into a 90 minute ride. WILL SOMEONE PAY ME TO TAKE CARE OF THEIR KIDS?

Today, at lunchtime, my coworkers and I attempted to hit up the Casbah for some chocolate-chip-banana-bread-French-toast, cos I’ve been raving about it for a century. Unfortunately, the place was closed, and so we decided to head to Velma’s Traditional Newfoundland food (where I devoured a plate of gravy, fries, and a turkey sandwich, and then punished myself by walking around Signal Hill for two hours).

 

Anyway, so we passed a sidewalk sale at Johnny Ruth where all the dresses were on sale for $50. JR is shamelessly expensive; I poked around in there the other day but couldn’t find anything for under $200. If I’m going to buy any piece of clothing for $200 or more, it better damned well be able to do my taxes and tuck me into my bed at night.

 

So then I found my red dress, THE red dress, the RED dresses of all RED dresses…exactly what I was looking for to wear to Spirit Fest and my cousin’s wedding… eye-catching, slightly provocative, and classy. The kind of dress that says come hither all you sexy, single men…and buy me a drink.

 

It was $150 originally. Go me.

 

I’m in the puppy market again, and this time I’m determined. I’ve narrowed my search down to either an Alaskan Malamute or a Bernese Mountain Dog. The Malamute is my all-time dream dog and I’ve been dying to own one since I was a young lass. Unfortunately, there are no breeders within the province, and I can’t find a pup for under $1500. They’re also notoriously intelligent and mischievous, thus posing potential problems for someone like me who isn’t overly familiar with the breed.

 

Dont you want to just EAT IT?

Don't you want to just EAT IT?

The Bernese is more up my ally… plus I know a friend of a friend whose family breeds the dogs, and so far they’ve proven to be exceptionally professional and friendly.

Can I have BOTH?!

Can I have BOTH?!

All I know is that I have PUPPY FEVER, which is better than BABY FEVER I am sure. Pretty soon I will be hosting a Birthday party for my new pup, and maybe a Baptism. Maybe I will start an exclusive club. Maybe I will go to a dog bakery and get the dog a dog cake. BUT, if I ever want to get laid again… I won’t.

 

Discovered an amazing new pub last night, The Duke of Duckworth. Not new, exactly, but recently uninhabited by me and therefore not worthy of existence. And holy jaysus is Kerouac pretentious or what?

I actually haven’t slept since Friday. Well, I “passed out” for about three hours on Saturday night, but that doesn’t really count because I was still drunk when I woke up. For some reason, I always find myself incredibly anxious and unable to relax when Sunday rolls around. There’s no reason for this whatsoever. I literally lay in bed last night for seven hours watching the minutes tick by on my alarm clock. I didn’t fall asleep once.

 

It was a good weekend overall. On Friday I went to a random party with the boys, in hopes of meeting more boys that weren’t skeetbags or homeless. No such luck. This is how my ever-so-tactful roommate introduced me to Chef’s friend from Iran:

“This is Candice. She’s what we call in Canada a whore.  If you’re lucky, you’ll be balls deep in ‘er by the end of the night.”

 

Thus on the way to the Martini Bar he tried to hold my hand and then continued to mack on me for the evening. Fortunately, I conjured up all the charm I could muster and spent the evening dancing with my old college friend. He’s a cutie, and a talented musician. I’m not really interested though as I seem to only have crushes on assholes.

 

Saturday night I went to Ani’s place with the writer folks for some beerz. I drank a bottle of homemade wine by 9, then demanded that Lottie pick me up a six pack on her way over. Um, drunk much? We went to a show at the Rockhouse but I don’t remember if it was good or not. I do remember falling down and I do remember trying unsuccessfully to make Ani’s cute friend dance with me. Ow, my life.

 

Oh yah, I went shopping on Saturday too. Check it out.

 

 

I haven’t worn a skirt since New Year’s Eve 2005. I figured this was a good “office clothes” investment as well as something that can be skanked up for downtown by adding the black tights and low-neck shirt. It worked well.

 

 

ALSO, HUGE investment was made yesterday in a brand new friggen BED. A pillowtop one from Sears. OMGGG!!! I can finally upgrade from my fucking college decor (i.e. a single bed with a sleeping-bag style comforter). It cost me a fortune but I’m super happy about it.

 

 

I also went the extra mile and bought this incredible set:

 

 

 

MMM, I’m so old. ALSO, isn’t this the cutest thing you’ve ever seen in your life?

 

The meat mystery turned out not to be a mystery at all, but an unfortunate incident involving Beer and forgotten moose meat. Yum. We found a steak hidden under the pillows later that day.

After work yesterday, I literally spent the entire evening watching movies and TVs. Myself and a few ladies went to see Seven Pounds, mostly because I feel that Will Smith is the love of my life. The movie was extremely good, but heartbreaking. I tried to hold in my tears until my eyeballs nearly exploded, but then I heard everyone else sniffling and snorting beside me, so I let loose too.

After the movie was over, I purchased a purple pair of open-toed shoes at Le Chateau to make myself feel better. It worked. I love how the purple accentuates my ankle veins.

Then, at home, I found myself watching The Women. It wasn’t bad, although suspiciously similar to Sex and the City…right down to the skanky blonde and the curly-haired sweetheart. Wtf.

Tonight I shall do something productive. Like laundry. Maybe a new recipe. Learn some Spanish phrases. Cerveza?

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